Arnold's Birthday
by Call Me Nettie
Summary: I couldn't let Arnold's birthday pass without at least posting a quick one shot. I hope you enjoy this little play off of one of my favorite episodes, Arnold's Christmas. Happy Birthday Arnold!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** Hey all, I couldn't let Arnold's birthday pass by without sending him a quickie one shot to mark the occasion. It's nothing big, just a play-off of the episode "Arnold's Christmas". I hope you like it.

Also, if you're looking for a short story to go along with the Halloween season, I'd like to direct you over to my story "Watcher". For fun I've planted a clue to who the stalker is in each chapter. See if you can find it before you reach the last chapter where the answer is revealed! Anyway, I hope you enjoy both stories!

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Arnold's Birthday

Helga paces her bedroom, the cord that is attached to the phone's receiver stretches to its limit before she turns around to retrace her steps. Her voice can be heard on the street below as she yells into the phone. "Of course I have the money, I've been saving all year for this fight! It's not every day that Haystack Calhoun comes out of retirement for the grudge match of the century you know. Are you _SURE _your cousin can get us the tickets? It's been sold out for weeks."

"Yes, Helga." Harold says for fourth time, "Like I've already said, all you have to do is go down to the ticket office, give them your name and pay the money. It's all taken care of. Now, unless there's anything else you want to complain about I have to go. Patty is waiting for me at the arcade."

"Okay, Pink Boy, but believe me, if you're lying about this I'm definitely setting Old Betsy after you."

Harold lets out a quiet, "Whatever, Madam Fortress Mommy!" before hanging up the phone.

Excited, and not wanting to waste another second, Helga runs to her dresser, opening the top drawer and rummaging through it. It takes a moment, but her fingers finally brush across what she's been looking for. She slowly pulls out a tattered envelope and talks to herself as she rifles through its contents, taking care to count each bill twice. "It's all there, every penny of it. I've been saving up for this for a year, and now it's finally happening."

She replaces the money into the envelope and shoves it into the back pocket of her jeans. Grabbing a jacket, she runs downstairs, yelling as she makes her way towards the door. "I'm going out, I'll be back before dinner."

She runs down the steps, passing over the bottom one completely as she jumps onto the sidewalk. She sets a fast pace and sees the bus just as it pulls away from its stop. "Criminy, I missed it and the next downtown bus doesn't come for another thirty minutes. I guess I'm going to have to hoof it if I want to get there before the box office closes."

With a shrug of her shoulders, she pops her earbuds into her ears and chooses a playlist to listen to while she walks. With her concentration on her phone, she doesn't notice the person that is walking towards her, the ensuing collision sending her to the pavement. Shaking the momentary stars from her eyes she lets out a startled "Arnold!" Before regaining her composure. She shoots him a glare. "I mean, watch where you're walking Football Head!"

He blinks his eyes a couple of times, finally noticing just who it is that he's run into. "Oh, sorry, Helga. I didn't see you."

He reaches a hand out to her, and she takes it, doing her best not to notice the shiver that runs down her spine from the mere touch of his hand. "Well, you should pay more attention to your surroundings."

He gives her a solemn look. "Yeah, I guess I should."

She finally takes a moment to really look at him, and she notices the sad expression on his face. She also notices his black eye, as well as a deep cut on his cheek which worries her. She softens towards the boy and places a hand on his shoulder which causes him to look at her. "Hey, Arnoldo, are you alright?"

The look in his eyes tears at her heart, causing her to let out a little gasp. She brings her fingers to his cheek, gingerly running them down his cut. "What happened to you?"

He brings a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck. "I, uh, was on my way home from the park when these two guys caught me off guard. Before I could react one of them punched me in the stomach and the other one caught me right in the face.

Helga's blood starts to boil as she clenches her fists at her sides. "Who were they?"

"I – I don't know, I didn't get a very good look at them. They just grabbed my backpack and took off before I could do anything. By the time I caught my breath enough to go after them they were gone."

"Well, at least all they got away with was your backpack. It could have been worse, they could have gone after you with a knife or something."

Arnold stares down the street, not really looking at anything while he talks. "I don't care about the backpack itself, it's what was in the backpack that's important."

Helga tilts her head to one side. "Why? What could you be carrying around that's so important? Did they get your ID or your money or something?"

"No, and I don't care about ID's or money, that kind of stuff can be replaced."

Helga throws her hands up in frustration. "Well then what else could you have to lose that would have you all mopey and sad?"

"My harmonica."

She tilts her head to one side as if she's misheard him. "Your, what?"

His voice grows a little colder as he brings his eyes to meet hers. "My harmonica. It was in my backpack when they ran off with it."

Helga looks at him as if he's crazy. "You're making all this fuss over an old rusted piece of tin? That thing must have been over twenty years old. I'm surprised you didn't need a tetanus shot every time you played it."

Her inability to grasp the situation is beginning to annoy him now, and he narrows his eyes at her. "You don't understand. It's not the harmonica itself, it's more of what it represented."

She crosses her arms in front of her. "Oh? Well why don't you enlighten me then and tell me what that just might be?"

His annoyance turns to anger. "Okay, I will. For your information, that cheap piece of tin used to be my father's. He left it for me the day he and my mom left for San Lorenzo. I've kept it all these years, and, well, when I play it, it's as if they are there, like they used to be all those years ago."

Helga is at a loss for words so she just stands there, staring into his sad eyes. He mistakes her inability to speak as indifference so he just shakes his head and lets out a small huff. "Heh, why would I think you, of all people, would get it? I'm done here. I'll see ya later, Helga."

She watches him turn to walk away and starts to reach out to him. She is stopped when he unexpectedly turns back towards her. "You know, a guy spends his whole life trying to do good, to keep a positive outlook, to be there for others in their time of need. But what for? What good does it do when all life is going to do is turn around and kick you in the ass? I give up, I just give up. And you want to hear the real zinger? Today just happens to be my birthday, too."

His birthday. How could she have forgotten that it was his birthday! She shakes her head and tries to tell him that he's wrong in what he's thinking. "Arnold, no –"

He holds up a hand, stopping her before she can go on. "Save it, Helga. I'm not in the mood."

He turns back around and she spends the next few minutes watching him as he disappears down the sidewalk. It's only when he's rounded the corner for home and she loses sight of him that she continues on her way.

She continues her walk at a much slower pace than before, the whole time she unable to get the look in Arnold's eyes out of her head. Figuring that there's really nothing she can do to change what has happened to him, she turns her thoughts back to the tickets she is about to buy. Her excitement grows as she nears the arena where the match is going to take place and Arnold's troubles are almost forgotten when she passes by a pawn shop that sits just two doors down from her destination. She gazes through the big display window as she walks, looking at the various items up for sale when her eyes land on a familiar item in the far corner of the window.

There, sitting among an assortment of small, percussion type instruments, is the exact type of harmonica that Arnold used to carry around with him where ever he went. Sure, it wasn't quite as old as his was, and there were hardly any of the rust spots on it that adorned his old harmonica, but it was the same none the less.

Shrugging her shoulders, she starts to continue on her way when her conscience starts to nag at her. She stops, letting her shoulders slump as she turns on her heel and walks back to the window. She looks at the price tag that is attached to the old harmonica, her eyes bulging at the price. "Criminy." She thinks to herself, "What is it, some sort of an antique or something?"

She pulls the crumpled envelope out of her back pocket and looks from it to the harmonica, hating it when life throws moral dilemmas at her like this. She starts pacing in front of the window while talking out loud to herself. "It looks to me that I have two choices here. On the one hand, I can just walk right on past this window and get those tickets to the wrestling match of the century, and no one has to even know about that thing sitting in the window. On the other hand I can walk into this here pawn shop and buy the harmonica in the hopes of brightening up a certain Football Headed love God's day. But if I do that, then I can't afford the wrestling tickets and there goes a whole year's worth of saving all for nothing."

She stops and gives a small swoon. "Oh, but it wouldn't be for nothing if it could bring even the smallest of smiles to my beloved's face."

Shaking her head she continues on with her pacing. "Oh, who am I fooling? Why should I spend good money on someone that basically just said that he had no interest in anything that I had to say? And yet – Oh, criminy!"

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**xxxxx**

Arnold sits on the living room couch absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the TV. He holds a cold compress that his grandmother had given him against his swollen eye. He stews as he thinks about what happened to him earlier and keeps asking himself the same question over and over. "What's the use?" What's the use of always trying to do the right thing when all that ever happens is that you keep getting knocked down? Well, no more, life will not be taking advantage of this fellow anymore.

Unable to find anything suitable on TV, Arnold shuts it off, throwing the remote onto the floor. He gets up and is about to head upstairs to his room when he hears a knock at the front door. He at first thinks about ignoring it, but his conscience won't let him so he walks over to it, swinging it open with an annoyed "What?"

He's confused at first when he looks out through the empty doorway to the street below. He takes a step outside and looks both up and down the street. "Oh great." He thinks to himself, "I've been doorbell ditched." He turns to go back inside when the toe of his shoe hits something. Looking down he sees a brightly wrapped box. Picking it up he sees a tag with his name on it. Underneath that are the words "Happy Birthday".

He flips the tag over looking for a name but doesn't see any. He gives the street one last look before heading back inside.

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**xxxxx**

Helga sits in the alleyway that runs along the side of the boarding house. She sits in silence when she hears the front door open, a curt, "What!" hitting her ears. She stiffens up at the sound of her beloved's voice and holds her breath, not letting it out until she hears the sound of the closing door.

She stays in the damp alleyway, wondering if her gift has been accepted. She begins to worry that her gift was a mistake but stops when the slow sounds of a familiar melody hits her ears.

She gets up, her gaze following the sounds of the music to the roof top of the boarding house. She sees her beloved's back as he stands looking out over the city as he plays the almost haunting melody. She smiles, a gentle warmth slowly filling her as she stands listening.

With her hands clutched longingly at her heart she looks at the one true love of her life, and whispers a soft, "Happy Birthday, Arnold."

_The End_


	2. Chapter 2

With spending most of my free time working on my story "Song of the Siren", I didn't get a chance to write Arnold a new Happy Birthday story, so I am resurrecting this one instead because, come on, how can we let Arnold's birthday pass without acknowledging it, right?

Anyway, if this is your first time reading it, I hope that you enjoy -


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